Such Beautiful Snow
by OleandersThrive
Summary: Six years after the well closes, Kagome lives in present day New York. She goes to school, but no degree and works as a cafe barista. One day on her way to work, she spies a hauntingly familiar face on the cover of a business magazine. Sess/Kag; Kag POV


Whenever I see him I just think of the first snow of the year. How not the day before, it could have been at least forty-five degrees and the autumn chill's still in the air, but you can feel the crisp winter. Then suddenly, like the Earth can't handle anymore, it wipes the warmth in one swoop and leaves the chill, the ice, and eventually the snow. That's what seeing him is like. Everything in me is cleared out in one movement and all I can see is the cold, beautiful snow.

He still keeps his hair long, surprising for some reason to me. I see him first on a business magazine as I was walking to the café. I barely registered anything around me as I looked into glossy golden eyes. Not like _his_, _his _were soft and molten, and the man on the cover of this magazine, well, he had the eyes of a hawk; a predator, the shining gold of the sun on the snow.

The second time I saw him was on the TV. The café had one TV placed on the counter behind the rail. It was some daily news show; I was mixing a latte for an annoying woman and then I heard a tenor I hadn't heard in six years. I frantically searched the room only to have them land on the glass of the TV. His suit was crisp, dark, and impeccable. His hair silver and gleaming, smooth voice speaking in monosyllabic words to the chatty host. I stumbled closer to the screen, like a child watching Saturday morning cartoons with the burning need to keep watching. His hands were still pale as milk, piano player wrists, and long fingers sans claws. I was suddenly struck with a question. A question of how?

To say the least, after being reprimanded for ignoring my duties, I was given a stern talking to, finished my shift, and hurried home to swallow every piece of anything I could find of him on the Internet. There were no biographies, no pasts. It was all business articles and blogs of this "new power". There, on the screen in front of me, someone who centuries ago had his hands wrapped securely around my throat, and arrogance choking the both of us. The blogger stated he was some trader, some CEO to a rising company that was taking over everything in the market. I felt a smirk, an inside joke, a twitch on my lips. All I could think was, how like him?

On my days off I started haunting the enormous building that was the headquarters for this mysterious up and comer. The building looked like the rest of the business district. Stories and stories high, shivering gray glass from window to window reflecting the city surrounding it. Pencil skirts, Armani suits, briefcases, and twitchy assistants were coming and going in an endless flow. I just need to see him. Needed to see if he was real. If he was here, to prove that six years of repression did not morph into a sick hallucination.

After about a month of my haunting, I finally got my wish. A sleek black car sidled up to the curb, and a driver, with black cap on tightly, ran around the car to open the inner angled door. First a black gleaming shoe, a flawless black pant leg, hair falling in a wave of liquid white, and eyes calculating and cold. I held my breath, hiding behind a phone booth, my eyes watering from my lack of blinking. I was afraid to close them even for that nanosecond. He would surely disappear. Fade in a quiet poof of smoke to the world that only I had seen; where trees grew wild, people worked for their home, and creatures possessing power and beauty that seemed unfair to the gods. He walked direct and with purpose. I could see at least that much of him had not changed in what surely had been a few centuries.

After that first glimpse of snow, it became impossible to stop. I was consumed with seeing a minute flick of hair through a throng of people clashing to ask him questions. I needed to see the expanse of his pale neck, the nimble work of his fingers flicking through a folder on his way into the building. For another month, this is what preoccupied my free time. School? A fleeting dream. Work? Only enough to pay the bills? I made sure to call Mother and Souta when I could, but that became once a week rather than once a day. "I'm sorry, I've been busy," I would say. I don't think they believed me.

Then came the day that changed everything. I was standing in my typical spot outside the building. I tried to switch it up as much as possible to remain innocuous, but the view from behind the phone booth was the best. I saw most of him more often from this perch. I waited; his black car had not come yet. Then, I felt a hand grasp my elbow tightly. I startled, already blurting an apology when I met hardened topaz. My breath left me.

"What are you doing here, miko?" He said softly and hard. His voice was low, but it thundered through me. I felt the bass rip through my organs. He was real. He was absolutely real. He tugged a little harder on me, maybe to shake words from my mouth. All I could do was stare wide eyed at him. Snow, such beautiful snow.

He eventually dragged me toward the alley between his building and the next, and pulled me through an access door. I followed wordlessly, never taking my eyes of the back of head. I didn't mind remotely the mild dislocation that had to have been happening to my arm. The pain reminded me that I was indeed not dreaming. I welcomed the pain then with that realization. I even lagged a little, just the have him jostle me a bit forward to keep up with him on the stairs.

It seems we went up the spiral for hours. Turn, climb, stare. Turn, climb, stare. Eventually we clicked out into a hallway that left no impression. Right and left were doors. Some open, some not. All offices. People on phones, people opening cabinets, people reading files. I didn't care, I just needed him to keep hanging onto my arm. To keep dragging me. I would go anywhere he led. This ghost from a grave that has never been covered.

I moved worlds away from the shrine, and still I never escaped the awkwardness I inherited from living my other life. I hated the smell of the gasoline, I didn't even own a car. The crowds of people never looking eye to eye anymore, everyone glued to their cell phones. I didn't even have one of those either. Just a land line and only 3 people had the number: Mother, Souta, and work.

I was breezed by an indifferent secretary, her hair in a clip, and headphone speaker and microphone looped over her ears. Her blank eyes flickered up from her typing, and then went back to work. Then we broke into what I assumed was his office. The wall behind the desk was an enormous window, the city like legos beneath us; he dragged me to a chair in front of the desk, and pushed me down. I gazed up at him. His face, his eyes indiscernible, unreadable.

"Why are you here, miko?" He reiterated. I bit my tongue, I didn't want to answer. I didn't want to break this glass room with my voice. His eyes then turned harsh, expectant.

"I live in the city." I exhaled, so soft. I didn't want to be the one responsible for shattering everything.

"You should be dust." He was stoic as ever. Nothing like his half-brother. I didn't care. The fact he shared half his blood was enough. I didn't care he tried to kill us numerous times. I didn't care. He had seen it. Lived it. He had been a part of it too.

"The well." I choked out. I kept staring. I don't think he blinked either during this whole encounter. I hadn't ever been this close to him civilly. There were always other pressing matters. Either his hands around my throat, or my eyes trained an arrow at his heart. His eyelashes were long and silver like his hair, but full and soft looking. Such beautiful snow.

"The well?" He asked. My mouth opened and closed like a fish sucking in air. The well he asked. The well encompassed everything that happened. It had witnessed everything. It had burned it all to memory.

"I'm from this time. The well took me back." It was the simplest answer I could muster. A nearly imperceptible nod from him. His gaze finally broke mine and I felt like I was drowning. Like he was about to sizzle and fade into my skin and everything was a dream. He walked around his desk and sat in the intimidating chair seated there. His elbows rested on the edge of the desk, and his hands covered his face as he exhaled a deep breath. I had to restrain myself from tearing his hands away. When the hands pulled back, would his face still be there?

"That explains a little." He whispers suddenly, emotion bleeding into his voice. I was sitting on the edge of my seat, my fingers clawed into the armrests.

"How are _you_ here?" I ask. I needed to know.

"I've lived a very long time." I nod as well. The answer is enough. He has been alive since I fell back into the well. After that final battle, we reached the village so much sooner than I ever thought. As my hands had grasped the wood, his _half-brother_ standing at my back, I dreaded going in. I could feel it. It was the end. I was never coming back. And when I reached the other side, it would mean everything from there was dead. I died too, within that mortal second of stepping foot under our family well house.

"It's good to see you." I blurt it out. Bubbled like froth from my mouth. An accident, but not unwanted. I let my eyes wander all over him. Respect had fluttered far from this room. I need to drink in the sight of him. Because, this too, surely had to end.

A small twitch tugged near the corner of his lips from my verbal fumble. He sighs and leans back, the chair turned at an angle where he can turn his head and stare at the city beyond the window. I was hit hard by how much he didn't belong here. How anyone thought he did was a crime of the previous Western Lord. While still staring out the window, the silence muffling the rest of the world, he reached up slowly and looped a hair tie around his locks at the side and base of his neck. It fell in a long silver river below his ear to his waist. Such beautiful snow.

I stood up suddenly, his eyes flickering to mine. I walked as calmly as I could to the other side of the desk. He did not move as I approached him. He did not flinch as I came closer than necessary, invading anyone's personal space, but especially his. His eyes burned mine, never flinching, never hinting anything. They did not move from mine as I reached my hand out. I did not need to look where my hand was going, they were there. My fingertips graced his cheekbones, where the magenta stripes he had use to be. My other hand, skimmed his forehead, tracing the invisible crescent moon. I saw his eyes tighten minutely. A slight slivering in their shape that gave way that I was doing something to him. What that something was I had no idea. Nor did I care.

He did not make a move to stop me, so I didn't. My hand cupped his cheek. I felt a shock to how warm he was. That was impossible to think of him being warm, hot even. He was snow. He was mountains. He was ice made real. The fingers tracing his moon shifted to fall over his arched brows, just as silver as the rest of him. His hard gold eyes still not moving from mine. The hand that cupped his cheek glided back over his ear, the point was gone, but my fingers slid effortlessly into his tied strands. I grasped the hair tie and slid it down.

His eyes silvered again, tighter. Maybe from annoyance since he has just put it there. Again, I didn't care. With his blatant demonic arrogance hidden from view, I had physically hurt from his hair being tied down as well. He was an Inu demon, he was a Lord, he was power. He should hide from no one. I lifted both hands and glided them over his scalp, combing through the precious strands. His legs had opened, myself standing between them, letting me in closer to him. My hand kept running softly through his hair, trailing under his jaw, around his neck, then back up into his hair. I couldn't stop. I gasped softly as I watched, like in slow motion from the movies, his lashes got lower and lower until they rested. His head tilted, his eyes closed, and breathing soft and something indiscernible. I don't know how long I continued essentially petting him, I was sure he felt my breath on his face as I leaned in. I pressed my forehead to his, my hands braced in his hair behind his ears.

"You're real." I whispered, my eyes closing too since the first time since I first glimpsed him. I inhaled him, I soaked in every sound. Took to memory the feeling of the textures of him surrounding me. Impossibly soft hair. Warm, such warm warm skin of his forehead. Even warmer breath on my face. The sound of his breathing, the whisper of his suit. Large warm hands grasped my wrists, and my eyes slowly opened to the gold of the blinding sun. I felt so warm. I felt nostalgia. I felt that train ride home. He was here. He was real. He knew. He knew it all.

I fell on his lips. Soft like the rest of him. The reaction of no reaction lasted mere seconds before long fingers were tangled in my long black mane of hair. I kissed him hard, my small body looming over his, as his long neck stretched back as I pushed him into the chair. My hands got tighter in his hair, pulling and pushing. Not knowing which direction was up. I was so warm, so dizzy. I felt his slick tongue slip into my mouth. I gasped hotly, a blush rising to my cheeks, but I didn't want to stop. He tasted like snow.

Somehow I ended up straddling him in his office chair, my back pressed on the hard edge of the desk. His mouth began to dominate my every thought, my wet muscle flicking into his mouth at small opportune moments. I felt myself break the cycle slightly as I smirked into his lips. I tasted blood on the tip of my tongue, literally. He still had fangs. I felt a rumble against my chest where his was pressed against me. His large hands held onto me under my thighs as he easily lifted and laid me down on the desk. My hands were still in his hair, but now his body shadowed over mine. I felt a tingling in my toes at the thought. He was so broad, so big and wide, his legs were thick and strong between my thighs, his arms could encircle me twice over. Is this what memory looked like?

We kissed feverishly. My hands finally untangling from his hair to smooth down his chest. I needed more skin, now. I just needed more. I needed to be consumed. To be seen. For me to be real too. I pulled at the immaculate tie until it was undone enough for me to undo the top two buttons of his shirt. Even though they were just collar bones, I moaned into his mouth when I slid my hand under the collar of the shirt. He was so warm.

His hands were roaming, too. My shirt was pushed up to under my breasts, my belly free to be assaulted by his hot hands. His fingernails tickling up and down my sides, my lower back. I finally broke from his lips to attach myself to his neck. The way he smelled, heavy and sure, and how he tasted. Slightly like salt, and a lot like something we've both nearly forgotten. His hands busied themselves with the button on my jeans as I mouthed over the column of his throat. His hips pushed into mine when I sucked at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. I nipped softly, his hips grinding forward harder than before, and the quietest of noises from his chest.

He pressed me down onto the desk firmly, his hand on the center of my chest, breaking the contact between my mouth and that sweet spot. We looked at each other, breathing heavy. I gave one dip of my chin, a sure nod. His eyes dropped from mine and he grazed both hands up my ribs, sliding under the cups of my bra. I put my mouth in crook of my elbow and moaned softly. He was so warm! I couldn't get over how it flushed through my whole body. He squeezed slightly before he continued pushing until my shirt and bra were forgotten on the floor. He descended on me.

The crook of my elbow still tightly against my mouth, his lips scorched a trail down my neck, pausing slightly to nip, lick, and suck at the protruding tip of my collar bone. He strayed further down. Soft lips and hot mouth taking one of my nipples, a talented tongue and pointed fang had me grinding up against him without much thought. I could feel him through the material of his suit. He was hard, and hot, and I was getting impatient. As if he sensed it, one of his hands pressed down one of my hips and I was deemed immobile.

He may have been acting human for all these years, but I quickly remembered that I was about to be with a full blooded, beautiful, dangerous demon. I sat up on one of my elbows, substituting my biting my lip to muffle noise he was taking from every flick of his tongue. I reached for his head again, tangling my fingers in that delicious long hair. I watched with reddened cheeks; his pretty lips sucking and licking around my breasts. His eyes again glued to mine, but the gold was being overrun by the desire blown pupils. I groaned at the sight of them.

He kissed down my belly, his hair trailing all over my body. Just another sensation to add to a list of favorites since the beginning of this encounter. His fingers hook into my jeans, pulling down, taking my panties with, and I was bared to him. His face was still stoic as ever as he leaned back down to kiss my abdomen. His tongue trailing downward, turning cool when his mouth left the spot. His hands slid up and down my thighs, pushing them further apart. I thought I felt him smirk against my skin when I resisted a little. Even though I was way into this, I was unsure where this was going, and being naked on a desk in front of snow personified is a little intimidating. I felt a vibration on my hip. I looked at him as his hair covered his face from my sight, as I tried to figure out what he was doing. It felt almost like purring? Was he trying to calm me? I didn't know and I didn't care within that next moment.

His tongue was a wet hot lance as he slowly licked up my folds. I gasped at the feeling. I rose up on my elbows again, to see, only to have my legs spread wider naturally and my head tip back as I tried to withhold a raunchy moan. His arms looped around my thighs, his hands running over my stomach as his lips and tongue assaulted me. I was trembling when I felt a soft tip of fang graze me, his tongue lapping and then flicking the rosebud at the top.

I raised my head again, needing to watch, needing to see him there. I bit my lip hard to hold in the noise from the sight. His eyes were topaz, unflinching in looking up at me, his hair pools around my thighs, my belly, the desk. His large hands were splayed across my ribs. His lips slid up to the bud, latching around it and sucking, hard. I groaned loudly. It was going to be hard to cover that one. His tongue flickered over it occasionally as he released and sucked it back into his lips. One of his hands disappeared behind my thigh only to make itself known as a long finger pushed into me and curled, rubbing me in all the right ways. He had me shivering, moaning, and trembling into a moldable puddle.

I felt that tightening my belly, the kind that wound itself with my very veins, and my heart sped up like it was running, trying to catch that bomb within. Then it stopped. His hand withdrew, his mouth off me like lightening as he leaned back. I felt the flush from the almost-orgasm, and heard myself whimper. The only answer got was an arrogant smirk and rise of an eyebrow. I was far too turned on at this point to be mad, it only made my legs tremble more in anticipation. Slowly, I was seeing more and more of the old Lord of the Western Lands.

He unbuttoned the suit jacket, slid the tie off in a fluid movement, and had the rest of his shirt opened. He was so pale, so beautiful. I don't think I could ever get use to it. I leaned up, my legs still wrapped around his thighs as my hands ran up his chest. Starting from the mouth-watering, sharp hip bones; the toned abdominal muscles that twitched as my hands slid by them; the pearling dusky nipples. I was breathing heavy just from getting to touch him, I pressed open mouth kisses across his ribs, tailing my tongue down the light sliver trail leading down. His hand tangled in my hair and tugged my head all the way back as he leaned down and devoured my mouth.

"That will be for another time." He growled. Before I could say or do anything else, his hand was unbuttoning his suit pants, and pushing them off his hips. I reached for him again, and he pushed my hands away, and pressed me back down onto the desk. He gently lifted my hands above my head, one of his clasping my wrists, holding me there. I felt the tip of him gliding between my slick folds. I groaned and lifted my hips trying to take him in.

I looked up into his eyes as he continued drag up and down against me, slicking himself up, and getting me so worked up I was panting. I saw that arrogant glint in his sharp eyes. I almost laughed, but groaned instead. He was enjoying this, making me beg for it.

"Gods, please, just fuck me already." I pleaded, and reserved my pride for a later moment at the pink in his cheeks from my language. I wanted it too much right now. I needed him. I lifted my hips against him again, and this time I wasn't denied. He wasn't small at all and it had been a very long time for me. His mouth dipped and took over mine once more as he thrusted a few times before he was fully seated in me.

We both moaned into the kiss at the feeling. I was hot all over with him filling me. I ground my hips up, wanting him to do anything. Just move. And he did. He slid almost the whole way out before thrusting up hard, fulfilling me again. I broke our kiss to latch onto his collar bone, muffling my squeaks and moans as he pushed in and out, progressively harder. Then he snapped. His hips jutted up into me with force that couldn't be human and I arched into it, my eyes glued to his, biting my wrist. He leaned up, with his palms against the desk, and screwed me into oblivion. All I could feel was him, all around me. Strong sturdy legs, with incredible hips pushing him into me with force and delicious heat.

I felt the tightening again, I begged for him to go faster, go harder. He complied with ease, one pale hand sliding up and down my body, tweaking and pinching my breasts as he thrusted hard into me. My legs trembled on his sides, that one free hand hooking under my knee and opening me up further for him. My breath started coming fast as I fell towards that precipice.

"Don't…ngh…stop…" I pleaded, he held my hip tight and pistoned into me, I was sure there would be bruises. I saw a bead of sweat on his brow, and his teeth were clenching although he made no noise. He was close too. I yanked his lips down to mine with a pull of his hair. He growled into my mouth, his hips rutting forward. I felt myself tighten all around him, his cock still sliding in and out with delicious wet ease. I came against his mouth, his hips slamming hard into me as I rode out my orgasm. I moaned loud and bit down on his lush bottom lip.

As I came I felt him thrust hard into me, each punctuated by a growl or moan. Then his eyes squeezed shut, and an arm wrapped around my lower back as he fucked into me to his own orgasm. I felt his cock swell, and the hot spurts of his come in me. I moaned his name over and over. Nipping on his human looking earlobe.

His hips slowed to stop, but he stayed in me. He head was dropped in the crook of my neck, he breathing hot and heavy as it slowed. His lips leaving an open kiss every few seconds. After a while of staying stationary on the desk, he slid out of me and lifted his head to look in my eyes. He was still stoic as ever, but his eyes gleamed in the after-sex cloud.

"We should probably get cleaned up." I said softly. Suddenly I was aware that it wasn't even noon yet, and there was a bustling city outside his door, his window. He nodded, pulling a handkerchief from the inside of his dropped suit jacket. He took gentle care, lips going up and down my neck again while he cleaned me up. Then he took care of himself.

We got dressed, the air in the room smelling of sex, but not awkward for some reason. Was it because we both knew who we use to be? Me, a miko of respected power and completer of the Shikon Jewel, now a barista with no degree. And him, an Inu demon who ruled with a ruthless and iron fist, now a business man who played with words and diplomacy.

I picked up his tie as he buttoned the last button of his shirt. I put it around his neck, looped, and tied it though I was sure he could've done a better job. I looked at him, and reached to run my hands through his hair one last time. I rationalized the excuse of combing out the sex tangles just to get the soft strands between my fingers.

"I will see you this evening." He said, a little of the Western Lord falling into his voice. I flushed at the sound. I merely nodded and wrote down my address on a note pad on his mussed up desk. I gave small smile as I turned to go; his large hand grabbed my wrist and fingers under my chin to tilt face up towards his. His lips descended against mine softly.

Whenever I see him I think of snow. That first real big snow of the year. Where the cold wind blows through and anywhere inside looks so inviting, but you want to stay outside. You want to enjoy the quiet. The soft flurry and muffled crunch of snow under yours boot. The snow sparkles blue in the moon light. It's so cold, but forget going inside, I'm going to stay here. And stay surrounded by this beautiful snow.


End file.
